


First Meetings

by lovecybelle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, First Meetings, Homophobia, M/M, Teen John, Teen Sherlock, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2050902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovecybelle/pseuds/lovecybelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John looked up when he heard the commotion, just in time to see three of his teammates closing in on a tall, thin, dark haired boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a-study-in-john-lock](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=a-study-in-john-lock).



> For Kyra, tumblr user a-study-in-john-lock, for the johnlockgifts gift exchange. She asked for teenlock, and no established relationship. I wrote my first draft before I read the fanfic Defined By The Space We Seek (which is by the way amazing), and afterward, I realized this fanfic was a lot like it. I tried to take it in a different direction, apologies if it seems to similar. This is my first attempt at teenlock, hopefully I didn't mess it up.  
> Warnings: Bullying, physical violence. Not too graphic, but serious injury, fist fighting, and some blood. Some swearing as well.

“Hey Freak!”  
The shout rang through the deserted corridor.  
It was almost four, and the school was nearly empty. John was stowing his rugby uniform after practice. He was tired, and he was looking forward to collapsing on the couch the moment he got home. He sighed in resignation, remembering he had to study for tomorrow's biology test if he wanted to maintain a decent grade average.  
John looked up when he heard the commotion, just in time to see three of his teammates closing in on a tall, thin, dark haired boy. John had seen him in a few of his classes, but he had never really tried to talk to him or noticed him much before. He vaguely remembered seeing him win the science fair last year, appearing bored and nonchalant while the judges had oohed and aahed at his display of several test tubes and petri dishes.  
The gang was made of relatively popular kids, the kind who were athletic, funny and good looking. But it had been a long, hard practice, and they were looking for someone to taunt and laugh at. The boy was an easy target, with his indifferent loner attitude, never seeming to take an interest when a gossip worthy event would happen in the school. He was strange, from his tendency to make snarky remarks to teachers and students alike, to his oddly formal clothes. He was wearing a dark green dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up and the top button unbuttoned.  
The boy stiffened as they surrounded him, but he still remained remarkably calm, tossing back a scathing retort. “Dimmock. Tell me, was it your awful personality that drove your father to his drinking problem, or was it your intelligence and immaturity level roughly equal to that of a fourth grader?”  
Matt Dimmock, the leader of the gang of boys and one of the best rugby players in the school, broke into a furious scowl.  
"Say that again, smartass!" Matt lunged forward, his hands roughly grabbing the boy's narrow shoulders and forcefully slamming him into the lockers, so hard that the three books and black violin case he was carrying clattered to the floor. Matt threw a punch, but the boy dodged it, and it quickly broke into a full out fistfight. The boy swung at Matt, hitting him in the stomach and doubling him over. The others quickly advanced, attacking from all sides. Blood spurted from his lip when an elbow jammed into his face. Despite his slender frame, the boy was spry and nimble, barely managing to hold his own, blocking some of the punches and landing a few solid hits. But the odds were stacked against him, and he was no match for three, all of who were stronger than him. Zach Neilson, Matt's best friend, hurled his fist into the side of the boy's face, and he crumpled to the ground. The gang didn't hesitate, beating him as soon as he was down, while the boy struggled.  
John had seen enough. Everything had happened in only a few seconds, and the boy was already down before he realized what he had to do. John wasn’t afraid to get in fights, even if they were his teammates and so called friends, though he had never liked them. He wasn’t going to stand by as those jerks beat up someone for the fun of it, three against one.  
“Alright, Matt?”  
All three of them froze and looked up at John as he jogged over, realizing someone had been watching them.  
“What are you guys doing?” John was effortlessly casual, refusing to show fear. He was right in front of them, clenching his fists, but keeping up a façade of friendliness, acting as if they were close friends, not teammates who barely spoke to each other.  
Matt scowled. “We’re teaching this fag a lesson. Got a problem with it, Watson?”  
"No, but he's already down, isn't he mate? No point in hitting him anymore. You might as well just leave him here." John forced a laugh, hoping a teacher would walk by soon.  
Matt glared at him, slowly getting more angry. "Watson, if you're trying to tell us what to do, we'll make you regret it."  
It was at that second that John lashed out, punching him straight in the jaw. Matt lurched back, stunned, as John socked Zach in his gut. As soon as the boy wasn't held down anymore, he moved in surprising grace, getting to his feet and attacking the third boy, Phillip Anderson. While they were down, John hastily grabbed the books and the violin case that had fallen out of the boy's arms.  
"Come on!" The boy hissed, and they both sprinted out the decorated double doors in the school, only stopping when they had put a distance between them and the school. Out in the sunlight, it was striking just how attractive that boy really was, with his defined cheekbones and dark curls. He had a split lip, he was already bruising everywhere, and a huge lump was forming on the side of his head, but nothing seemed too serious. He walked gingerly, like his whole body ached.  
"That wasn't very smart of you."  
John frowned. "Lucky I did it, or you would be in a hospital right now."  
The boy smirked as well as he could through his injuries. "By the way, Afghanistan or Iraq?"  
"What?"  
"You're a military kid, right? Where was your mom deployed to?"  
"How did you-"  
"Obviously one of your parents serves overseas. Your mother, judging by the wrinkles on your shirt. Been there for a year, probably the reason you and your sister have both been so distracted lately. I know you want to be a doctor, though for some absurd reason you try to hide enthusiasm for anything schoolwork related from your friends of clearly average intelligence, if that. You're grades have been slipping, both from normal teenage rebellion and procrastination in favor of popular video games, the high amount of stress you experience from your mother being away, and of course the full schedule of being on something as dreary as an organized sports team."  
John was speechless. He never talked about his home life, and the boy had just read him like a book. "That was- that was bloody brilliant, actually."  
The boy stared at him, disbelief on his features. "Thanks." He said quietly. "People don't usually say that."  
"What do they say?"  
"Piss off." John laughed, and a faint smile spread across the boy's face. "I guess I really should thank you though." He added.  
"No problem." John stuck out his hand. "John Watson."  
"Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock shook his hand, and John couldn't help but notice the electric jolt that seemed to run through him as their hands touched. John dropped his hand quickly, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. An awkward silence had fallen.  
"Interesting." John started at his voice, turning to look at him. Sherlock was staring at him intently, no doubt deducing more scarily accurate observations about his life.  
"What's interesting?" John asked nervously.  
"Nothing..." Sherlock lied, stepping back. Except...  
John's eyes widened as he saw the blush coloring Sherlock's cheeks, and he realized what Sherlock must have seen.  
Sherlock cleared his throat. "Um, I know a great Chinese restaurant two blocks from here, if you'd like to grab some food..."  
It was John's turn to smirk. "Race you there." He said, sprinting away without warning.  
Sherlock laughed, breaking into a run. "You don't even know where it is!" He yelled after him.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the length! It's a bit short, I was pretty busy this month. This is a one shot, but I'd be happy to write another chapter if requested. Hope you enjoyed! :)


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